FIRST CLASS
by SANDEFUR
Summary: A very strange encounter in India, September 2006


FIRST CLASS

By SANDEFUR

Mohinder Suresh presented his pass to the attendant at the door of the first class lounge of the Madras Airport. With a smile and a slight bow, he was admitted into the large, luxurious room. Before, the few times Mohinder had flown overseas it had been coach. Disappointingly, the room was crowded and noisy.

There were a few open spots at the bar, but it was filled with American, European and Japanese businessmen. They were all drinking heavily, bragging loudly and laughing uproariously at their own dirty jokes. It was only two days since learning of his father's death, and Mohinder desperately wanted some peace and quiet.

The many tables were filled to capacity with tourists, except for one in a remote corner of the room. Like an island of tranquility, it was seperate from the noisy crowd, and only one attractive young woman sat there. He must have had a look of appeal in his eyes, for she noticed, smiled and nodded her agreement.

Gratefully, he worked his way to her table, and as he got closer, he noticed she was younger than he originally thought—still in he late teens. With a smile of thanks, he sat beside her. She returned his smile, and at any other time he would have found her charming and desireable, but for now he only wanted polite formality.

"Thank you for sharing your table."

"My pleasure. I have a long lay over between flights and I was getting bored. By the way, my name is Joan Girardi."

"Forgive my manners. My name is Mohinder Suresh. By your accent I would say you are American. I'm going to America—to New York to be precise."

"I go through there on my way home, to Arcadia Maryland."

"Sorry, I've never heard of it."

"Not many have. It's a small city in the western part of the state. So what takes you to America, Mr. Suresh?"

"My father died there two days ago."

Mohinder could see she was about to respond with the usual platitudes that he had already grown tired of when they were interrupted by the arrival of the waiter. Before he could even look at a menu, the girl ordered for him.

"The gentleman will have sweet hot tea with mint."

The waiter nodded and left while Mohinder stared at her with surprise.

"That's amazing. The very thing I was going to order. How did you know?"

"Perhaps I'm psychic?"

Mohinder felt a thrill of excitement. Perhaps she was one of THEM. Maybe she had all sorts of amazing mental powers?

Joan continued, "Or maybe I'm an agent of fate, destiny or in other words—I work for God."

And maybe she was just some sort of nut.

"You look skeptical."

"Isn't that a rational response?"

"Like the rational action taken by the University when they fired your father for his bizarre theories? Come now, a man who believes in genetically advanced super beings draws the line at the possibility of God's hand acting in his life?"

"That's different. One is science and the other is at best… misguided faith. What proof can you offer?"

"True faith doesn't ask for proof, but since you don't believe, consider how you came to be here."

"Simple enough—my flight was over booked and I was bumped to the next available flight and upgraded to first class in compensation… Although, as I was leaving the counter, I heard the other agent sell three more tickets on my original flight."

"Almost as if you were maneuvered here by God so we could meet. By the way, I can assure you he is not a cockroach."

Mohinder didn't know what to think. Mostly he was amused and doubtful, but there was a growing unsettled feeling within him. He had been telling the cockroach joke for years, and his father's theories and firing were matters of public record. As for his favorite drink, it was a common enough choice… He looked down and saw his cup of tea before him. How had he missed the waiter delivering it?

"Alright Miss Girardi, just for the sake of argument, what does God want with me?"

"Nothing in particular. We are meeting because God is fulfilling a plea made to him by the disturbed spirit of your father. He desperately wants to get a message to you."

"Oh, so now you speak to ghosts?"

"Only when God arranges it. Your father's time is short. Do you want to hear the message?"

Poor disturbed girl. Mohinder shrugged and Joan turned and seemed to be attentively listening to someone.

"He says, stay in India. Don't go to New York, it's too dangerous. He says completing his work isn't worth risking your life."

Mohinder firmly said, "I don't know who put you up to this, but nothing on earth can keep me from this journey. My father's work is important, and I won't let his death be for nothing. I will find out who killed him, and I will finish what he started."

Joan paused briefly before replying, "He says, in that case, he has never been prouder of you."

For a moment Mohinder's lip trembled. How he had longed all his life to hear those words. Could it be?

"No! This is an old scam used by fake mediums forever. You tell distraught family members just what they want to hear. What next, do you charge me for other messages from the great beyond?"

"Too late for that. His time was up and he crossed into the light. As for his last words, they're free and utterly confusing to me. He said that he and I have something in common—that we are both Italian?"

Mohinder gasped. "My great grandfather married an Italian woman interred here in World War Two. After the war, they divorced and she returned to Italy, abandoning their only child. That family scandal has been held tightly secret ever since. No one outside the family knows it."

"Which is why your father used it to verify what I told you. Okay, our business is done, and check-in time for your flight is approaching. Good day, sir."

Mohinder rose from the table like a child dismissed by a school headmaster. Before he could move, Joan spoke to him again.

"Mohinder Suresh, do you mind a personal observation? I get the impression you are enthusiastic about this great genetic leap forward. That you see it as a good thing?"

"Of course. After all, isn't it God's will?"

"Far from it. There are a lot of things that happen in this world that are not the will of God. God sends us rain and cooling breezes. The devil corrupts that into floods, tornadoes and hurricanes. God sends us the light and warmth of sunshine, and the devil corrupts that into heat-waves, droughts and skin cancer. God has also given us the genetic ability to slowly adapt to various enviroments…"

"Are you saying this devil has corrupted the people with special powers? That they are all evil?"

"Not at all. The devil has corrupted the process in order to bring more suffering into the world. It's what he does. Just because these people are super human doesn't change the fact that they are human. Some will be good, some will be evil, and most will be that flawed mix of both good and bad that defines humanity. Don't be naïve. Different won't mean better, just more powerful. Be careful."

Mohinder no longer had the capacity to form coherent thought. He merely nodded and walked away. As he reached the entrance, he looked over his shoulder and saw Joan in extended consultation with the waiter who had served them.

A confused looking woman entered the first class lounge, and scanned the room. When she spotted the isolated table, Joan Girardi smiled and nodded. Gratefully, the woman headed that way. Hastily, Mohinder exited, hoping this had all been a dream.

The End.

I hope you enjoyed my Heroes/Joan of Arcadia crossover. Please review. Thanks to Charle the Bold for his help with this story.


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